


snkt

by EmeraldTrash666



Series: Second Main Phase [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Isolation, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23082208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTrash666/pseuds/EmeraldTrash666
Summary: [snkt] darkness, obscurity {O34 N35 V31X1 N5}-Paul Dickson's Dictionary of Middle EgyptianFor 3000 years, Atem was alone.
Series: Second Main Phase [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492052
Kudos: 35





	snkt

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me recently that everyone in the Yugioh fandom kind of has a slightly different idea of what Atem's time spent inside the Millennium Puzzle was like... And since it's such a huge foundation for his character in the Second Main Phase AU, I should prooooobably actually share mine instead of just frequently and heavily alluding to it and expecting that to explain things. (For the record, this actually should take place somewhere between chapters 6 and 10 of wHm mswt, but I'm publishing it separately anyway.)
> 
> That being said, this can absolutely be read as a standalone fic! If you're interested in reading about Atem's recovery, or if you want to see more about the last scene, feel free to check out the other fics in the series. And if you're not interested, and just want some short Millennium Puzzle angst, hello and enjoy your stay!

He awoke, not knowing where he was… Or _ who  _ he was.

He groaned, pushing himself up off the cold, hard floor he’d found himself on, and glanced down at himself as he wondered what kind of person he was.

His body seemed small, young, with warm bronze skin- Though his hands did seem a little bit chapped. He curled one hand into a fist, and almost got a sense that maybe it had once held some sort of weapon. His clothes were simple, just a shendyt and two gold arm cuffs, though he did note the brilliant white color of the linen. (Was he some sort of nobility, he wondered, if he was able to afford such fine cloth?) Reaching up, he felt a soft, round, clean-shaven face- No, not clean shaven, he realized, but rather not yet old enough to require shaving. Thick, wavy hair grew from his head, messy and sticking out in every direction, about a half cubit in length.

Examining his body, however, seemed to reveal unsettlingly little about him. He couldn’t even seem to remember his own name. Who was he? How had he lost his memory? And… _ Where  _ was he?

“Hello?” he called out, slightly hesitant. “Is anyone there?”

He waited, counting the seconds as he listened for a response, yet none seemed to come. He frowned, biting his lip; That silence didn’t bode well, he thought. Still, maybe he could find someone if he walked a bit?

As he began walking, it soon came to his attention that wherever he was was… Rather bizarre, to say the least. 

He seemed to be in some sort of huge room, made entirely of stone bricks. It was dark, with seemingly no actual light source to be found, yet he could make out a number of staircases placed in ways that felt almost at random; Puzzlingly, some staircases seemed to go sideways, or even upside-down. There were doors, too, dozens of them; Maybe he could find a way out?

Cautiously, he (what  _ was _ his name, anyway? He wished he knew) pushed one of the doors open- And almost fell, just barely catching himself in time to avoid plummeting down. He gasped, heart racing as he held onto the wall.

On the other side of the door was a ledge, leading to a sharp drop. What the  _ hell? _

Still slightly shaken from his brush with death, he slowly, carefully lay down on the floor, and peered out over the edge. Far, far beneath him, he could see what appeared to be the same room- Or was it another, similarly bizarre room? He couldn’t tell. Either way, it didn’t seem very friendly. He shuddered as he stood up, and closed the door.

Despite his unfortunate introduction, he continued to open door after door- Being extra careful, of course, to avoid stepping forwards into any of them until he was sure there would be solid ground beneath his feet. Much like the first one, each door seemed to lead right back to the same room, or perhaps other, nearly identical rooms; None of them showed any signs of anyone other than him being around, either.

“Hello?” he called once again, as he opened another door. “If- If anyone can hear me, please, I think I’m lost? Can someone help me? Hello?”

Once again, he heard no answer; There was no one, nothing but himself and the room, its walls and twisted metal doors looming ominously at him. The very air in the room felt oppressive and heavy- Cold, yet not from a breeze, as the air felt oddly stagnant and stale.

He shuddered, and trudged forward. He had to find a way out. He knew there had to be one; After all, he had somehow gotten inside the room (Even if he had no memory of how), so logic dictated that if there was a way _ inside,  _ there had to be a way  _ outside  _ as well. He just needed to find it.

Right?

With this in mind, he continued his exploration. 

For what seemed like hours he walked, opening every door, climbing every staircase, turning down every hall… And yet, he never seemed to find an exit, nor any signs or life. He’d opened door after door after door after door, each time hopeful that maybe this would be the one, that maybe it would reveal a friendly face or the warm light of the sun, or even the stars- Yet there was nothing, nothing but stone and metal. Nothing but the stale, cold air.

It just didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t there an exit? And what the hell kind of room was he in, anyway? It didn’t even seem to obey the laws of physics. Was he… In some part of the Duat, maybe? Why? How? Surely such a room as this couldn’t have existed in the mortal realm, but why would he be in the spirit world? Was he _ dead? _ He didn’t know, and that scared him. Then again, even if he were dead, that still wouldn’t explain where he was or how he’d gotten there. Or why he didn’t remember anything.

He’d been wandering for what must have been going on a full day now, and he was still no closer to freedom. He was still... Lost, in more ways than one. A boy without a name, without any memory of who or where he was; Trapped, alone, in a cold, dark nightmare labyrinth, without any clues as to how to get out. Nothing to use, no one to help him. He was cold, and tired, and scared, and so very very confused.

Tired, emotionally drained, and not knowing what else to do, he lay down on the floor and curled up against a corner, preparing himself for an uneasy sleep.

* * *

He huffed as he sat down on the stairs, trying to gather the facts.

It had been… Some time since he had first awoken in the labyrinth. How much time? That, he didn’t know. He’d tried, at first, to count the days based on how many times he had slept; Were he still using this system, he would have said it had been four days. But this method of timekeeping had quickly become useless after a sudden realization not too long ago that he didn’t actually know  _ how  _ long he slept, or how long he remained awake (a realization that had come to him as he’d pondered his odd lack of hunger or thirst), which made the whole thing null and void. Maybe it had been four days, or maybe it had been two, or maybe it had been a week- He didn’t know, and had no way of knowing. Maybe it didn’t matter anyway.

What did matter was that he didn’t seem to be any closer to getting any answers, and it was starting to get on his nerves. To try to deal with this, he’d decided to sit down and take stock of everything he knew- Hoping that maybe, if he could lay everything out on one “table”, so to speak (he wished he had a real table, if only because having anything other than his own clothes would have been interesting), he might be able to make enough connections to fill in the gaps. Maybe he could puzzle things out, and learn something new.

“Alright, let’s see here,” he muttered to himself, leaning against his elbow as he tried to list off the facts that he knew. His first goal was to simply list things off without thinking about them further; Best not to overthink any one bit of information too soon. With this in mind, he began.

Fact number one: He had woken up some time ago on the floor, evidently with strong amnesia. 

Fact number two: He was a boy, seemingly a teenager (he assumed, anyway- He clearly wasn’t an adult, but he didn’t feel like a child either), with what felt like a small but fairly average body, and long natural hair.

Fact number three: His clothes consisted of a bright white linen shendyt, and two gold armbands.

Fact number four: He was Egyptian, and probably educated- He thought he might be able to read and write, if he were given access to anything with which to do so, and he was definitely able to do arithmetic and rough estimates of measurements. He did not remember any family or any other details of his personal life, but he was aware of society, to some extent.

Fact number five: He liked games, he thought. He wished he had someone to play with.

Fact number six: He was in a cold, empty stone room that did not seem to obey the laws of physics. It was full of staircases and doors, and all of them seemed to simply lead to other parts of the room.

Fact number seven: He seemed to be the only person in the room.

Fact number eight: He did not appear to experience hunger or thirst, and it was unclear to what extent he required sleep.

He frowned, brow furrowed as he wracked his brain in search of anything else. After several minutes of thought revealed nothing further, he reviewed his list once again, and sighed.

Alright. Time to start putting things together. Thinking about the room probably wouldn’t lead to much, he thought, so he decided to start with the personal.

Though he had no memory of his personal life, it was clear that he was upper class, based on his level of education- And the fact that he was apparently able to afford some  _ very  _ high-end clothes, he thought, glancing down at his cloud-white shendyt. (He did find it strange that he evidently didn’t wear a wig, but decided not to think too hard on that, as he didn’t think it would particularly reveal much.) Although his clothes were quite expensive, he wasn’t wearing much, which led him to believe that he’d hadn’t been intending on going out when he’d arrived in the labyrinth. He must have been lounging around the house, or maybe even sleeping.

Speaking of the labyrinth… Wherever and whatever it was, it clearly was not a part of the mortal realm. It must have been a part of the Duat, which meant that he was either dead, or he had been somehow spirited away. Neither of these possibilities seemed to answer the why or the how, though- Even if he were dead, he was reasonably certain “spend a long time isolated in a seemingly airtight space-defying hellscape made of stairs and doors” wasn’t a typical step on the journey to Aaru. So, again, the question of where he was and how he’d gotten there remained unanswered, as “somewhere in the Duat” was about as specific as “somewhere in Egypt”.

He was good at thinking, he thought. That was another thing about him. Or maybe he was bad at thinking? He did seem to do an awful lot of it. Maybe he thought about things too much. Then again, what the hell was he supposed to do  _ other _ than think in a place like this, with no one to talk to?

He wondered how he’d developed amnesia, anyway. He supposed it was possible that he’d hit his head, but given everything, it seemed more likely to him that he was under the influence of some sort of magic. So what was up with that, then? Had someone put a spell on him? If so, who, and why? Or maybe it was self-inflicted? Why would he have done that? Was there a way to break the spell? Or was it caused by the labyrinth itself, a field spell of sorts? It would certainly seem fitting, given how damn confusing the place was.

He thought, and he thought, yet he seemed not to get much further than that on anything; Once he’d thought just about everything he could possibly think, he sighed, and stood up.

Trying to figure things out had evidently once again become useless, and now he was bored, so it was time to do something else. Maybe he’d try counting bricks, or something. Maybe he’d talk to himself, for the sake of hearing someone’s voice. Or maybe he’d just sleep some more.

Maybe one of those things would help take his mind off the fear and despair that threatened to overwhelm it.

The room seemed darker than it had before.

* * *

He knew who he was now.

He was… Evil. That was it. He was a criminal, a monster, and he’d been locked away for his crimes. It was the only explanation; Why  _ else  _ would he have been imprisoned the way that he had? If he were a normal person, surely someone would have come to rescue him by now, someone who cared about him. Or even if he were a prisoner of war with no family or allies, surely by now someone would have come to give him orders, or to kill him, or to sell him. But none of those things had happened, and he’d been alone for so very long.

Nobody had come for him, because nobody wanted to. Nobody wanted him. He was disgusting, and everyone hated him, he knew. He’d done something so bad, so heinous and deplorable and  _ wrong  _ that he’d been sealed away somewhere where the rest of humanity would never have to deal with him; Punished with eternal torture, not allowed to die yet not allowed to see another living creature. Not allowed to see the light of the sun.

He was a monster, and he didn’t even know  _ why. _

Could he really have been that evil? He didn’t know what he’d done- The thought of being unspeakably cruel disgusted him, seemingly going against the deepest part of what little personality he had- Yet the facts were undeniable. He’d been locked up forever for being the most evil person to ever walk the planet, and the guilt and the loneliness were crushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, slumped against one of the room’s many false doors. “I don’t know what I did, but- I’m sorry.”

The room did not answer him.

The prisoner’s lip trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I really don’t remember what I did,” he repeated. “I- I don’t remember! I don’t know! I don’t know what I did,” he whispered, and slapped a hand against the door. “Please- Please, I’ve been in here so long- Please, if you won’t let me out, won’t you at least tell me why?”

The room remained silent.

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I swear! I don’t even remember what I did!” he shouted, pounding at the door once again. “Please, just let me out! I’ll be good! I swear on my life, I’ll never hurt anyone- I’ll never do anything bad, I-I’ll- I’ll be good, I promise, please- P-Please, I’m begging you, please let me out! I can’t… I…”

The prisoner lifted his hand to bang on the door once more, trembling like a reed, but he didn’t seem to have the strength anymore. He slid down the door and onto the floor, curling up onto his side as he cried.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry. I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

* * *

He(?) was forgetting.

He didn’t know who he was, or what he was. He knew he’d once known some things- But now, he could no longer remember. His form was vague and foggy, with only the general shape of arms, legs, and a torso; He(?) could no longer remember what his body looked like. His voice, too, was a mystery to him(?), sounding like nothing but static when he spoke.

He could not remember how long he’d been where he was. He was vaguely aware that there might be something other than where he was, something outside of it, but he(?) could not remember what that something might have been. He’d certainly been there for as long as he’d existed, he thought.

He(?) wasn’t sure if there might have been others aside from him, somewhere in existence. He couldn’t remember what his(?) species was called, or if there were others like him. He(?) thought that there were many types of creatures in the world, though he couldn’t remember any of them- Which made sense, since of course, he(?) had never seen anything other than himself and the place; He hadn’t seen much of the place, either, as it was dark enough that he could rarely see anything other than what was right in front of his(?) “face”.

The only thing he(?) really knew for certain was that he didn’t like the place. He supposed he was probably a part of it, but that didn’t mean he(?) liked it; It was dark, and cold, and lonely. Although… What were “dark”, and “cold”, he wondered? He(?) couldn’t quite remember, and he paused in his wandering to think about it, momentarily puzzled. Whatever they were, they were not pleasant, he thought.

He knew he had once known more than this, and he(?) wondered what he’d known, and why he’d forgotten it.

He supposed it didn’t matter.

* * *

Dark.

Cold.

Bad.

That was all there was.

It had nothing but dark, cold, bad. There was nothing but it, and the bad, cold dark. 

It had stopped thinking long ago; It had nothing to think about. It did not know of anything outside the dark, because “outside” was not a concept it knew. It did not consider itself a person, because “person” was not a concept it knew. It could not distinguish itself from the dark and the cold and the bad.

It did not know how long it had been in the dark, because “time” was not a concept it knew. It felt bad, but it did not know what “feelings” were, and it did not know what it was like to not feel bad, to not be in the dark, to not be cold. Nothing else existed, so how could it have known? It did not know about anything other than the cold, the dark, and the bad. It did not know what these words meant- It did not know these words at all, as it did not have any language. “Language” was not a concept it knew.

It did not think, because thinking required language and concepts, and it had none. It was aware- Though it did not know what “aware” was. It was aware, but it did not think.

It spent (not its days, because there was no such thing as days) (not its time, because there was no such thing as time) (not its existence, because there was no such thing as existence) being aware. Dark. Cold. Bad.

Dark.

Cold.

Bad.

It.

Dark.

Cold.

Bad.

Dark.

Cold.

Bad.

Dark.

Cold.

Bad.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Cold.

Dark.

Bad.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Bad.

Bad.

Bad.

It.

* * *

He _ knew. _

His soul gasped to life as he suddenly, for the first time in what must have been forever,  _ remembered  _ something- Admittedly, not much, but he  _ knew _ things, and that astounded him. 

He knew now that this was his tomb, and that he was was waiting for someone. Waiting for someone important, an old friend. That person was here now, and, it seemed, in danger; He wondered why the person he was waiting for didn’t know how to avoid the trap puzzles. Shouldn’t his visitor have known how to solve them? It seemed natural that he should, almost laughable to think that he wouldn’t.

Then again, he had no idea how he knew about the traps, or why this newcomer would have. There was a lot he didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter right now; There were more pressing matters at hand.

He ran, the soles of his copper-toned feet pounding against the old stone floor, his cape billowing behind him, his jewelry clinking with every step. He ran, to where he knew he was needed, and extended his hand.

“I’ve been waiting for you... Siamun.”

* * *

He’d forgotten again, and he was  _ furious.  _ Whatever short-lived excitement he’d felt at the prospect of a visitor had long since died, leaving behind nothing but anger.

He remembered very little about the incident, other than that it had happened; He knew, on some level, that he’d encountered someone he’d been waiting for, but he remembered nothing about the actual encounter. Ultimately, he more or less knew about the same amount as he had when he’d first awoken- Which was still a hell of a lot more than he’d known for a while, and  _ that  _ was what pissed him off.

Because now that he knew that there was an outside world, that there were people other than him, he knew that he’d been abandoned.

He hated that he remembered things now, because now he knew exactly what he was missing. He knew now that there  _ were  _ things other than darkness and cold and isolation, feelings other than sorrow and fear and guilt and anger, and he knew that he would never get to experience any of them. He wished he could have gone back to the empty nothingness he’d been for a while, because as miserable as it was, not existing was  _ so  _ much nicer than being tormented with knowledge.

He was so  _ angry  _ about his situation. Angry at the universe for putting him in it, and angry at people for leaving him there. Clearly, they knew he was there- Otherwise, why would that man have come to see him? Yes, people knew he existed, knew he was trapped, but they didn’t care. How could they have been so cruel? Even if he was some sort of criminal, like he’d once thought, nothing could justify the torture he’d been through. And yet, the rest of the world was more than happy to let him rot, as if he were nothing.

It was wrong. It was cruel. And he was going to make them pay, someday. Someday, he’d get out, and then he’d break them; He’d show those monsters that called themselves “humans” just what he’d felt, make sure they  _ never  _ felt anything but pain ever again. If they were going to call  _ him  _ a monster, a criminal? Then he’d become one. If no one would help him, then he wouldn’t help them; If no one would show him kindness, then he wouldn’t show it to them. All of the fear and sadness he’d felt before had been replaced by pure rage at the way he’d been treated.

Because, really, they wouldn’t give him any of those things. They’d proven that already. Nobody wanted him, nobody cared enough to help him, no one was willing to show him kindness.

No one was coming for him.

Not ever.

And it was still so, so dark.

* * *

Atem awoke screaming, eyes wide with fear as the darkness closed in on him-

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s just a dream. You’re ok.”

A soft touch brushed against Atem’s waist, and Atem jumped at the sensation. “A-Aibou?!”

“Mhmm,” Yuugi yawned, tugging Atem ever so gently back down towards the bed. “I’m here. It’s ok. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Atem whimpered as he lay back down, his head abruptly hitting the pillow. 

“I- I didn’t think I’d ever get out,” he whispered, feeling hot tears spill down his face. “I didn’t think anyone would ever- help me… N-No one came for me,” he sobbed. “I- I- N-No one helped me, I-”

“Shhhh,” Yuugi interrupted. “Breathe. You’re ok.”

Atem struggled to follow Yuugi’s directions, his breaths ragged and halting as the darkness seemed to suffocate him; Despite his efforts, his breathing only seemed to get worse, and he felt nauseous with fear.

“It’s ok,” Yuugi repeated in a soothing tone, brushing a hand gently against Atem’s cheek; He took Atem’s hand, and brought it up to his own face, gently guiding Atem to feel that he was there. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream. I’m here.”

Atem whimpered, and followed along with Yuugi’s motions, feeling Yuugi’s skin under his fingertips.

“Look,” Yuugi whispered, pointing to the window. “Do you see the moonlight?”

“Y-Yes,” Atem replied; He took a deep, shaky breath, relieved to see light.

Yuugi paused, frowning thoughtfully for a moment. “...Actually, I think it’s street lamps,” he realized. “Well, whatever. In any case…” He sighed, and snuggled close against Atem’s cheek.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. But… I’m here now, and more importantly,  _ you’re _ here,” he pointed out. “You’re safe now. You don’t ever have to be alone again. You’re right here, in our room, with me, and no one can ever take you away ever again,” he promised. “You’re ok.”

“I…” Atem sniffled, and took a deep breath. “Y-You’re right. Thank you. I just… Wish I didn’t have to think about it so much,” he admitted.

“I know,” Yuugi sighed. “But… It’s over now, ok? You’re safe. I promise.”

“Mm. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Yuugi said with a smile. “Ready to go back to sleep?”

“I guess so,” Atem replied, yawning as if to emphasize this. “Goodnight, Aibou.”

“Goodnight, Other Me. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I DID name it that just because it's the Wolverine noise


End file.
